


The Call

by FaiaHae



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alchemy, Alternate Universe - Steampunk, Body Horror, Corsair Ana, Cult of Cthulhu, Cultist Zenyatta, Junkenstein lore, Lovecraftian Monster(s), M/M, Minor Character Death, Monster Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Possessed Fareeha "Pharah" Amari, Possible Character Death, Psychological Horror, Pumpkin Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, The mchanzo is the second half of the story, Van Helsing McCree, Voodoo, Witch Angela "Mercy" Ziegler, if someone gets out of this thing alive i'm counting it as a happy ending, it's a horror story folks it's not gonna end well for everybody
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-01-16 09:33:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 14,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12340068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaiaHae/pseuds/FaiaHae
Summary: Genji is saved at the brink of death, set up for a destiny he's unaware of. He's sure it won't be good- the witch of the wilds doesn't owe favors to honest men- but will he be able to stop what's been set in motion? Once his moment comes, will he want to?That is not dead which can eternal lie.'And with strange aeons even death may die.





	1. Prolouge

Genji wanted to die under the stars.

Hanzo could not bear to look at him, body a shattered mass of blood and bone, and his brother’s footsteps were gone long before Genji gave into the dark. He could feel it coming for him- but he would not die here, not under the family crest with the arc of his blood. His legs were little more then deadweight now- masses of gore and jagged pieces of white bone- and he counted on his arms and locked his fingers onto the floor. Slowly, agonizing, he pulled himself out into the garden. He left a trail on the stones behind him, painting them red. The night outside as he finally got to see it was colored by the harvest moon hanging in the sky. The light was the color of the lanterns that floated in his peripheral vision, too far to dim the stars.

 

The sky seemed strange- the stars hung in their constellations but the distances between them seemed to change, as though their angles were shifting. Some seemed to hide or fade, others to blossom brighter. Dying one way or the other- in a supernova, or in silence. Once, he would have wanted to die in glory. Now, he only wanted to rest. He knew he didn’t bear his wounds with honor- he hadn’t tried to fight back, even as his brother had begged him to. 

Genji saw more stars go out, and he figured it was his vision going. He could feel the blood running down his jaw and into the grass, orange painted light turning dark and red, but he fixed his eyes on the moon. There were shadows in the sky now- they moved like living things in the geometric spaces between stars. Something was  _ wrong  _ with the sky- like a flat canvas bulging outwards. There were shapes taking up the empty spaces, edges of wings, the twist of strands and tentacles of darkness that seemed to blot out even more of the sky. 

Something fell from the shadows. 

The moon itself was eclipsed by great black and gold wings, and Genji heard a soft hum from behind him. 

Genji had never imagined death this way- an angel seems cliche. He’d expected the shadows to swallow him up, but fate seems to have other plans.

The light doesn’t fade.  He sees a gold wisp over his chest, hanging fragile in the air. He sees two pale, slender hands reach out to grasp it, sees it  _ flare  _ like a supernova and feels every nerve in his body light up as though he’s been struck by lightning.

He can’t hold in the bubbling scream through the blood in his throat and he hears the delighted laugh of what is surely not an angel behind him-

And then those hands are over his eyes and there’s a sing-song voice in his ear-

_ My servants never die _

 

In terrifying clarity before consciousness is ripped away from him, he knows the shadows promised something far worse then a quiet death. 

___

There are flashes in his memory- glimpses of the sky, the rush of the earth, endless depths and dark of water,  the sound of wings. The wind is terribly, terribly cold- and the sky is shifting into constellations he doesn’t recognize. He knows, in some deeply instinctual part of himself, that he is far from home. But where was home, anymore? Nowhere. No one. The darkness that blooms in his chest is almost a comfort, almost a reassuring weight of certainty that he is lost without possible redemption, so completely that the tide pulling him under would be a relief.

He sleeps.

There is a form in the dark- a monk, palms up, legs crossed. Tattered fabric in strange sigils hangs around him, and his face is a twisting mass of tentacles. Genji does not know why, but he kneels. There is almost the impression of a smile. Floating orbs- glowing orange eyes that watch him as he sits- hang in the air in a circle around the figure's shoulders. Genji sees the metal body and the horrifyingly organic movement of the tentacles as though it is simply a fact, as though he has seen it a thousand times before. He sees the runes that hang in the air, in a wider arc then the eye socket spheres, and he knows what they mean, he has always known. 

“When the stars move again, you will find me.”

“Yes, master.”

Great obelisks rise around him, and an oppressive darkness falls. The monk hangs in a hideous orange glow, but bright green eyes pin Genji in place. There is a voice around them- coming from everywhere all at once, it's words obscured in a wave of sound that hums through Genji's bones and twists his chest as though the last lights he knows are going out, one by one. All that is left are the eyes above the mass of tentacles, burning a poisonous green. They glow- there is water around them, depths drowning any light, swirls of white matter glowing with the monk's eyes- a flare in the open sea, a lure like an angler fish. Genji is drawn in, already caught.

“You will not fail me.”


	2. Out of the goodness of your heart

He wakes.

He tries to move, but finds that he’s pinned into place. His arms are strapped down, and his body feels heavier than it should be. He gives a hard tug, testing the leather strap, but his arm feels strange- not quite obeying him. 

“Easy there fella.”

He lashes up, almost feeling the give of the leather as he starts, and he hears the same voice swear in a low drawl.

“-hey! Easy! I don’t mean to hurt you, Ana had to keep you still to put ya together again-”

“Where am I?”

“Huh?”

Genji realizes he’d spoken in Japanese. He hisses, tries again.

“Oh. Uh, New Orleans.”

“New...?” Genji tries to sit up again. His body feels heavy. He looks down, and in the dim he can see metal plating along half his torso. He looks up at the man in front of him. 

The man’s in a wide brimmed black hat and a long coat, and all he can make out of his face is in the faint light of a cigar. 

“New Orleans. Louisiana. Reckon you ain’t from around here.”

“America?”

 

The man snorts.   
“Reckon you  _ really  _ ain’t from around here.”

“How did I get here?”

The man’s expression darkens, the shadows on his face painting a macabre portrait. 

“The witch brought you.”

He pulls the cigar away, dropping his face into the shadows again. Genji swears the man’s eyes glint red under the brim of the hat.

“I don’t know why, but it surely don’t mean anything good.”

Genji feels disconnected. This is surely not his life, this role is surely someone else’s. If it weren’t for the dull ache of most of his body and the near agony of the rest, he would think he was dreaming. He thinks of the figure in the dark- the eyes.

**_You_ ** _ will find me. _

He was the singular attention of those eyes. He had been chosen. There was no mistaking that focus, just as there was no mistaking the focus of the man in front of him- the red tint of the eye that pinned him in place more surely than an arrow. 

Genji decides to be honest.

“Who is the witch?”

That takes the man by surprise, and the deadly glint is gone, his wide eyes lit instead by the fire of the cigar. 

“Y’don’t know?”

“That would be why I asked.” Genji tries not to sound too sarcastic, but he must not have succeeded because the man snorts out a laugh, moving forward to unbind his wrists. 

“Witch of the wilds. Big ol’ orange and black wings, tends to offer her aid to desperate men.”

Genji frowned, rubbing his wrists and taking in the metal plating over them with a numb sort of focus.

“I..I think I saw her. But she didn’t....offer. I think she took me.”

The man grunted an acknowledgement, pulling the hat off his head. 

“Yeah, that figures. When she gave you to us she said somethin’ smug about the satisfaction of repayin’ a debt. Certainly wouldn’t have helped you out of the goodness of her black little heart.”

Genji frowned, studying the black plating over his legs.

“...who would she owe a debt to regarding me?”

“Reckon your guess’d be as good as mine. Better, even, since I don’t know who you are.”

“Ah.” Genji thought for a moment.  _ Lousiana.  _ His name was no danger here.

“Genji Shimada.”

But maybe it was, given the focus coming back into the man’s features, even as he disguised it- pulling down his long hair and pulling it back up again with a few focused movements. 

“Shimada. The dragons?”

“They are our family crest, yes.”

“Think we both know that’s not what I mean.” The man lifted something that had been leaned against the wall, and Genji’s breath caught. It was his sword, neatly tucked into its sheath. The hunter, for surely with an eye like that the bearded man was one, pulled the sword from its sheath with a practiced ease. 

Genji’s breath caught in his throat.

The blade was clean. And as he recalled it had been on the floor of the dojo. It could not have been an insignificant gesture- even though the blade was cracked and ruined, brutalized by its defense attempts, there was not a speck of blood or smudge to be found. If the eye of the hunter was any indication, he hadn’t missed it either. 

But he seemed to take Genji’s expression for an answer, and sheathed it again. 

“Good craftsmanship, if rather specific. So happens that Ana knows a very capable smith who’s familiar with its workmanship. And as it happens your dragon tattoo was rather hard to miss. And Shimada blades made to hold energy and hold steady, sturdier than the average Katana, made with different materials.”

They both ignored the detail- the message from the witch. Whatever he was to be in this new life- he was not to put down the sword.

Genji just nodded. 

“As you said, we both know what you mean.”

The man eyed him. Genji stared right back. 

 

The door flew open with such force that they both jumped.

Genji blinked.

He thought he’d seen more than his fair share of strange things, but the woman in the doorway is a  _ pirate.  _ She wears an eyepatch, one eye marked heavy around its edges, a thick white braid swept across her shoulder. 

Silver hoops glimmer in her ears as she whips her head toward the hunter, grimacing.

“Jesse McCree! Are you interrogating our guest?”

“Ana I wasn’t-” McCree started to protest.

“He was.”

The hunter turned to Genji, gaping. Genji just smirked.

The woman- Ana- smacked the back of Jesse’s head, knocking the cigar to the floor. 

“Idiot. What’s your stupid expression- catch more flies with honey?” She waves her arm generally, silencing any retort from McCree.

“Hello child. I am Ana Amari. I’m an alchemist, so I was able to take care of some of your wounds. Unfortunately we could not save your legs or wrists, and there were some breaks in your ribs that couldn’t be healed naturally, so a smith augmented what we could not save. Does everything feel in order?”

Genji swings his legs down, kicking slowly. He doesn’t  _ exactly  _ feel the motion, but they move where he tells them to. He flexes his wrists. Again, strange, but responsive. He takes a deep breath and his plated chest expands as though he’s wearing tight clothing- difficult, but not impossible. 

“Everything is in order.”

He looks down at his metal legs, fixated. He remembers the organic curl of metal limbs, the burn of green eyes. 

**_You will not fail me._ **

Ana nods briskly, mistaking his fixation for interest.

“They’re a bit of a blend of smith and alchemy work, but we couldn’t do much about the nerve endings.”

Genji flinches, remembering the pain of the sword biting into his legs. He curls and uncurls his fingers.

“I think that is for the better.”

His voice sounds hollow to his own ears.

“Just as well, then.” The woman leans against the wall next to the hunter, adjusting the scarf in her hair.

“Now that we have covered the essentials, can you tell us what you know?”

“He doesn’t know anythin’, Ana.”

Ana raised an eyebrow at McCree, and then turned to Genji, who just shrugged. He’s got a feeling in his gut that the dream matters- and the blurry shapes of the stars, but the thought of mentioning it brings back the memory of searing green eyes.

**_You_ ** _ will _ **_not_ ** _ fail me. _

He keeps quiet- relating only the memory of the witch and her wings.

Ana doesn’t seem fooled- her eyes bore into him even more sharply than the hunters- but she just nods. 

“The witch is an enigma, and I have put more bullets between her eyes then I can count. She does nothing without reason.”

She leaves it at that, and gestures to the door.

“Jesse, let us leave our guest to rest.”

The hunter nods and leaves without so much as a second look back. Ana gives him a cheerful grin that doesn’t reach her eyes.

“Come out if you need anything.” She makes a gesture, and Genji thinks he feels the slightest pain in his hip before sleep sweeps up to meet him in a torrential black wave. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everybody's got a lot of secrets, hmm?


	3. All They Could

Genji knows, with the serene nonchalance that he knows the sky is blue, that he is dreaming and cannot wake up. The space feels tight around him, but the landscape is a vast black forest that seems to go on in all directions. The trees are coated in plants that Genji doesn’t recognize, vines that hang down like nooses from the trees. The air feels thick in his lungs, heavy with moisture. He can feel, behind him, a lake with something in the water. Something dead, but what’s presence presses up against him. Like being backed into a cliff, the drop a solid certainty.

He moves forward, away from it.

His metal feet are not quiet on the roots and stones, underfoot, but he knows it does not matter. He waits. He knows.

Genji steps out into a clearing, stone arches along the edges. There are men and women hung by their ankles from the crests, some pleading and screaming, others unconscious. Bodies dance around a monolith- human, omnic. Genji doesn’t know where the light comes from, but he sees it all in ghastly white. He falls to his knees, bowing his head to the monument. There is a metallic laugh from its zenith.

“Hello my student. I hope you do not waver.”

He lifts his head, past the dancers, up to the circle of green in the air and the undulating shadows of the monk’s features.

“I do not.”

The green eyes above the shadows open as the orbs continue their slow circle.

“That is all I ask of you, my student. Share with them what you will.”

“I will guard my heart, master, for it is yours.”

A pleased note hangs in the air, echoing like a bell.

“As mine is yours, my chosen.”

The bell grew louder and louder- consuming the space of the dream and sending the white light in again, brighter and brighter-

 

Genji is on his feet before he’s even fully awake, and the Alchemist is sitting near the door with an open sack in her lap, moving things around in it that make noises like a finger on a crystal wineglass. She doesn’t look up, even as he stands with the blankets around his feet, blinking furiously to try to get his eyes to adjust. 

He sits back on the bed, swinging his legs to test the weight. He could feel a little around the thighs, but sensation ended at his kneecaps even as his ankles rotated as he told them to. He flexed his fingers. Half-sensation. He could feel air on his fingertips and one of his palms, but one was sheathed and the other was free. One arm- scarred, but free of metal. His chest looked like he was wearing armor, but all he could feel was a bone-deep ache.

 

“We did all we could.”

Genji looks up, startled. He had been so drawn into the lines of metal on his body that he’d forgotten Ana was there. She pulled out a bottle and raised her eyes- steel blue and cold.

“I appreciate that you have not been angry with us, but I know what it is like to wake up with pieces of yourself missing.”

She tapped her eyepatch, then made a fluid motion and tossed him the bottle. 

He had to make an effort to catch it with the human hand- he was sure he’d smash it otherwise- and took a look at the label.

It was in arabic, but the liquid inside was the green of summer grass. 

“Drink that. It’ll help with the pain.”

He does.

It has no taste at all- like warm water. It goes down easily and he tosses the bottle back in another fluid motion: much faster then Ana tossed it initially. Her hand plucks it out of the air like she’s picking flowers, but there’s an edge to her smile.

“I may live to regret building you so fast.”

A seed of bitterness raises an ugly tendril in the fog of Genji’s mind.

“I have always been fast.”

His tone is cold. 

Ana clicks her tongue.

“Ah, here I am, trying to apologize for not being able to preserve more of your nerve endings and I end up mean. Forgive an old woman, won’t you? Truly, I am just grateful the witch brought you here and not to  _ him. _ ”

“To who?”

Ana clicks her tongue again and tosses another bottle at him.

“Junkenstein. He will be our problem sooner or later. Better to fix you then to risk her trying to keep us out of that fight in any case.”

Genji wasn’t following, but he drank the bottle without protest. This one was gold, and it tasted like sunshine. It made him a little sick, too warm, too pure. He studied the scarred palms of his hands. He wasn’t meant for sunshine anymore. 

 

The bottle breaks in his palm. He just stares at the shards, at the gold drops of potion hanging off of them. He can almost see his reflection in the pieces, and wishes he couldn’t. There are metal joints in the corners of his jaw, and the rest of his face is indistinguishable save the scars.

_ Did all they could. _

_ Did all they could. _

_ Did all they could.  _

His blood is rushing in his ears, heart beating hard. His metal hand closes around the shards, they turn to dust between his fingers.

_ All they could. _

 

“Genji?”

It’s the hunter’s voice. Out of the corner of his eye he sees the Alchemist stretch an arm out to stop him from coming any closer. 

_ Wise. _

“-Ana we got a call. We need to go.”

Genji looked back at them, letting the last of the glass fall to his feet. Something was washing over him like the dark of an eclipse.  _ Listen.  _ It told him.  _ Calm. You are safe in the dark. You are not alone.  _

The dark felt familiar. The water of his first dream, the shadow of the monolith. 

“May I assist?”

McCree looked up, startled, but Ana looked grim. 

“I think we will need it.”


	4. Waver

McCree offers him a hand, but he just walks past the hunter to follow Ana. She wrenches open a hall closet and pulls out a set of black robes that she tosses to him, followed up immediately by another object. He swipes the robes under one arm with a swift gesture, grabbing the object out the air with the other.

 

It’s a sword. 

 

He remembers his old blade as he studies this one- but the two blades have next to nothing in common save the chasm of energy he feels beneath his fingers, the space waiting for the power of the dragon. 

He feels a twinge along his spine, the ghost of curious movement. He draws the sword- holding it to the light.

It’s black, edged in poisonous green. 

_ The master will like this. _

He feels the shadows again, as though in confirmation. His dragon shivers in his spine. He sheathes the blade again, putting the robes on in the hallway without bothering to say anything else. Once he’s dressed Ana just nods approvingly and tosses him a ribbon for his hair- red. 

 

He sees the flash of a gold ribbon in his mind’s eye, and has to concentrate to keep his hands steady as he ties his hair back. The look McCree gives him- wary and calculating- says he didn’t steady them enough. 

“Where are we going?” He asks, staring down the hunter. McCree’s eyes flick from Genji’s shaking hands to his eyes.

“The bayou. Somethin’ in the forest is taking locals. They’ve been hearing chanting an’ they’re scared witless.”

Genji nodded, tying his hair back. He freezes as he feels it in his palms, halfway through the reflexive gesture. It should not have been long enough, should not have the weight in his hands that it does. He pulls it down again, curling a strand around his finger. The last inch at the bottom is a faded pale green, washed out.

 

“...How long.”

His voice sounds odd to his own ears, almost drowned out by the roar of his thoughts. He doesn’t hear Ana answer but he knows- long enough. Hanzo has likely forgotten him. The shimada have settled into their legacy, the spare forgotten. A voice in his ears that sounds like his father’s scolds him for not asking sooner- an essential question, he had been worked on extensively, reworked, perfected. A month? A year?

_ It does not matter. _

_ You have woken at the time that this world needs you. _

_ Let the stars be your catalyst, you have woken to their call. _

The comforting dark of the water, the shadow of the monolith. 

Genji calmed.

“I am sorry, I did not hear you.”

“Four months.” 

Ana’s posture was relaxed, playing with the bottle in her hand as though it were an innocuous object. McCree was far less subtle, his hand hovering over his hip. 

Genji put his hair up. His hands were steady.

“I did not keep it this long. It is strange I did not notice sooner.”

“I reckon you had other things on your mind.” McCree said evenly, his hand still on his hip.

Genji snorted.

“Certainly.”

 

Sorted, they moved out into the street to hail a carriage and were whisked off into the dusk. 

 

They caught some sideways glances, and Genji pulled a scarf Ana had tucked into the pile of his robes around his face, but he was surprised to notice that he seemed to attract no more attention than the other two did. Less, even. People looked to McCree with open fear in their faces and quickly looked away. 

The last stretch was where the road dropped away and the driver told them he would go no further. Ana thanked him for his time and did not press, simply pressed what looked to be a disproportionate number of bills into his hand before she turned on her heels and headed for a break in the trees.

 

The further in they moved, the more familiar the scenery became. Vegetation like nooses hanging from the trees, the greenery thick and the air heavy. Genji knew, as a compass points north, that he was being watched.

It did not unnerve him.

All he felt was the slightest thrill of anticipation. Ana led, but he knew the way. They followed the winding path he had traced in the dream, not erring in the slightest. 

Only the heavy stench of corpses when they drew close to the monolith unnerved him. 

 

His gut twisted as he remembered the bodies on the arches. It was just a dream, surely-

He wasn’t fooling himself. He knew when they stepped out of the treeline what was waiting, but it didn’t stop the bile from rising to the back of his throat. 

 

Arches, in a circle. The monolith, a strange mottled red stone carved with characters that made his head swim to focus on.

And mutilated corpses all around them. 

 

Genji forced himself to take in the scene- the arches with the bodies that had already hung in his dream seemed far more decayed than the men and women who had still been screaming for their lives. The ground around the monolith was trampled, and his gut twisted to remember the dance that had taken place around it. 

“Where did they go?”

 

“Where’d who go?” McCree’s eyes were too focused, his tone carefully calm. Genji gestured to the trampled ground, covering up his misstep.

“There were obviously many more people here. Were any of them captured?”

McCree studied him a few moments longer before he took another long drag of his cigar, as though bracing himself against the weight of the words.

“The lot of them. Buncha fruitcakes, speaking in tongues. Had a man with ‘em, dunno if he’s gotten anything yet.”

“He has not. I gave him a signal of sorts.” Ana held up a piece of paper with a curling violet symbol on it.

“We will know when he does.”

Genji nodded, and set off to look at another part of the site. He could feel McCree’s gaze burning into his back, and his heart clenched as he looked up into the ruined face of a young woman.

_ What have you done? _

The shadows twisted in his chest.

_ I hope you do not waver. _

_ I.. _

The end of the sentence comes just as easily as it did in the dream, even as his gut twists with revulsion at the sight around him.

_ I do not. _


	5. The Idol

Genji knew that his silence had not been missed by either of his companions, but they let him stew in his thoughts even after the paper had ignited in Ana’s palm and they had set off to rendezvous with their ally. He feels sick to his stomach, but oddly cold. The shadows wrap around his chest.

 

_ Do you waver? _

 

Did he?

There was a part of him that was distantly horrified, as though he had heard about a tragedy in a country he’d never been to instead of seeing bodies in front of him. He thought there must be something wrong with the lack of immediacy. Reaching for his feelings just found green eyes and the pillars in the dark. 

 

They made their way on foot through the trees and away from the stone circle, and Genji couldn’t help but look towards the other path when they started back towards the road. He felt, again, the white mass like a wall in reality. It pressed against his senses, and he felt the dragon shiver. He didn’t realize he’d stopped moving till Ana wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him forward.

 

“Best not to look too long.”

“You-”

Ana met his eyes with a steely blue stare, still pulling him along as McCree took the lead.

“I am an alchemist, child. I know where the old ones lie.”

There was a weight to her words, and they sat on his shoulders with all of the sentences he couldn’t bring himself to say. 

“...I dreamed of it.” he managed.  _ Tell them what you will.  _

 

He hated that he was still following the instructions to the letter.  _ Are you? All that was asked was your heart.  _

“I suspected as much.”

Genji’s surprise must have shown, because Ana snorted.

“I am not a fool. Jesse means well, but he lacks the faith. Some walks through warzones that they do not see.”

She looked back over her shoulder.

“They only sees the death it leaves in its wake.”

She let go of him and walked on ahead, leaving him to follow in silence. 

___

 

Their contact is a grizzled old veteran with a shock of white hair and piercing blue eyes that cut into him almost as much as Ana’s stare. 

 

He’s considerably less friendly. 

 

“You sure you want the Shimada here for this?”

Genji bristled, but Ana smoothly cut him off.

“If I did not then he would not be.”

The man grunts, but pulls out a leather bound book and snaps it open.

 

“Alright, first things first. They’re denying killing those people. They say some kind of winged shadows took them.”

 

Genji felt the yawning sky above him, remembered the spaces between the stars. 

 

The man continued, unconcerned.

  
“They’re part a cult. They say it’s ancient and spans many countries, and their chants that they kept up even as we were taking them apparently means “In his house at R'lyeh, dead Cthulhu waits dreaming”. No fuckin’ idea what that means.” the man closed the book with an audible snap.

 

“The rest was some crap about dead gods and star positions.” 

Ana tensed against Genji’s shoulder, and he waited for her to ask for more information. Instead, she simply said.

“Well they’re in custody now, I suppose.”

He grunted.

“They said something about an idol. Way one guy was talking about it made it sound like an omnic.”

 

The eyes at the top of the obelisk. 

 

To Genji’s surprise, he felt Ana stick a knuckle into his hip.

“There were some metal pieces around the shrine, and the obelisk itself has a carving in it. Maybe that’s where you should look next.”

“Suppose so. You got anything else for me?” Ana shook her head, her knuckle still firmly against Genji’s side. He knew she was lying. She knew he knew. Why were they withholding information?

_ Some walk through war zones they cannot see.  _

Ah. 

He relaxed, and Ana took her hand away. He didn’t know what the alchemist was planning, but he felt it like the stretch of the road in front of him. She was the way to the master. Whatever followed, followed.

  
  



	6. Nothing but Time

Ana stuck close to his side the entire trip back to their apartments. They’d left in a hurry- but Genji took a moment to look up at the building, feeling the press of the city around him. It was a townhouse of a sort- They’d taken a side exit, but going in now they passed through a shop full of herbs and odd talismans on the lower floor.

  
Genji didn’t miss the hunter’s snort of derision as Ana stopped to straighten a shelf and wave to the girl working the counter.

Ana didn’t miss it either, and fixed him with a cutting glare.

 

“Don’t look down on the thing that’s kept you alive all these years, Jesse.”

He ducked his head, looking ashamed.

“Yes Ma’am.”

 

Genji paused, feeling the curl of the dragon in his spine. He yielded to the pressure building at the base of his neck, and as he tipped his head the dragon pulled herself free. The coil of green light spilled down his shoulder and onto the counter, lifting her head to scent the air.

 

He heard a muffled oath, but he ignored it in favor of watching his dragon carefully. She seemed strong- much stronger than she should have been, considering the damage to his body. A much darker green then she had been before.

 

She shivered, seeming to sense his nervousness, and he felt a pang of her against his temple. But she twisted again and set off along the counter, finally stopping when she got to an oak box settled on the corner of the counter. She nudged it, scratching it with a talon.

 

Ana let out a humorless chuckle and moved to the box, extending a hand to the dragon. To Genji’s surprise the spirit immediately curled up and around her arm, settling on her shoulder. Ana picked up the box and handed it to Genji, turning to McCree without giving any indication that something of importance had happened.

 

“You should head back to Jack and get that log of his. You know he is too dismissive at times.”

Suspicion gleamed in the hunter’s eyes, flicking in the light of his cigar, but he tipped his hat.

“Yes ma’am.”

 

He went, with the flick of his coat behind him, and Ana steered Genji deeper into the shop. They reached a storeroom with a door Genji found familiar- the guest room he’d been kept in had the same elaborate carvings.

 

Ana settled on a heavy wooden armchair and opened the box, offering it to the dragon.

Genji’s breath caught in his throat as the spirit coiled around the object.

 

It was a golden orb, set with three huge emerald eyes. They were dull against the curls of gold, but Genji knew they weren’t gems. He had seen the pupils move against the dark of the world of dreams.

 

He knew.

 

He felt the curl of the shadows in his chest, pleased. He saw his dragon shiver against the gold, but she met his eyes and nudged the orb again.

Genji moved forward, reaching carefully into the box and holding the orb in his palm. The eyes seemed to flick, to focus on him. He could feel the arcane power of the thing, the press of it against his senses. Touching it gave him goosebumps.

 

“Thank you for looking after it.”

The words weren’t quite his own, simply felt right. The customary reaction. Ana inclined her head, an almost-bow.

“It is my part.”

 

Genji-careful, reverent- placed the orb back in the box. His dragon retreated back to the nearly ruined tattoo, sinking into his spine.

There were too many questions to be asked to possibly voice them. Genji did his best to try.

 

“You’ve met him?”

That wasn’t quite right, because Ana only nodded. Too simple.

“You knew?”

She gave him a patient look, and he remembered the words about the old ones. The thing in the forest. Of course she knew- but how, why-

Ana almost smiled, seeing his expressions war on his face. She settled back in her chair, folding her hands in her lap.

“You know, I had a daughter. A long time ago. She was incredibly important to me, and when I lost her I went scouring the world for answers. There were none to be found, because fate takes no such quarter. But I saw many strange things. Wondrous, terrifying. And when you learn and dabble in the old magics, it is only a matter of time before you encounter the elder gods.”

She shook her head, her eyes distant and sad.

“And I have had nothing but time since I lost Fareeha.”

Genji bowed his head.

“I am sorry.”

He couldn’t remember the consolations they had taught him when he was young in this language- words about rest, about pride the dead would have had for the living. None of them felt quite right.

Ana waved him off.

“It was a long time ago.”

 

Nothing more to be said, then.

 

There was only a few moments more before the chime of the front door. Ana was already moving to go back into the shop when the hunter rushed in, winded, the older officer at his heels.

 

“Ana- Eichenwalde has been attacked.”


	7. One last favor

Genji found himself bundled onto the train like so much luggage, kept close to Ana’s side with McCree flanking him as though the hunter were scared he would make a break for it. The landscape gave way around them, and Genji drank it in like a desert spring. He had never been to America- the way the wilds rose into forests was incredible to him. At moments he felt the press of something against his senses in the distant spaces, and whenever it did McCree’s eyes trained on him with that razor focus.

 

Maybe the hunter wasn’t as blind as the alchemist thought he was. 

 

The silver-haired soldier went to sleep almost immediately after the train rolled out of the station. He looked rather less intimidating in his sleep, scars less pronounced without the vicious frown. They all felt ill at ease, and Genji certainly hadn’t missed the way new passengers looked at them and then hurriedly away again.

 

These people had to have a reputation. 

 

Genji himself seemed to only attract curiosity. A few children looked up at him and gaped before their parents tugged them along, but the hushed whispers were simple sentiments. Don’t be rude, don’t stare, be polite. There were much less flattering things said when a child’s gaze settled on Ana or McCree. Witch and Hunter. Necromancer. Demon gunslinger. 

 

Ana and McCree seemed to take the stares in stride, settled into their seats without paying a mind to the whispers. Genji tried not to let it unnerve him. He had been called such things, once. When the Shimada were a clan of hunters. When the heirs were set to rule together, their father there to support them.

 

Once.

 

It brought a bitter taste to the back of Genji’s throat, so he settled into his seat and let his gaze drift- looking for a distraction. The landscape had been the same for hours now- there was no longer the fearful press at his senses. The soldier was waking, groggy, pulling a newspaper from his bag. Genji let his eyes settle on it.

 

His blood ran cold.

 

He lunged, ignoring the outraged noise the soldier made as he plucked the newspaper from his hand.

He flipped it over, nearly ripping it.

_ September 19th, 1880 _

 

“Is this today?” 

He was surprised by how controlled his voice sounded, almost distant as his hands clenched and his eyes scoured the page.

He felt Ana and McCree’s eyes on him, could tell without looking that their hands were on their weapons, but the old soldier just huffed and settled against the seat.

“It’s yesterday’s, but I get the feeling that’s not why you’re asking.”

 

Genji didn’t look up, but when the prickle of the stares at the back of his neck cut off he knew they had shifted their attention to Jack.

Genji ran his fingers over the paper, taking it in. New technology- steam powered automobiles had been unveiled for public use. He’d seen all of this before of course, the Shimadas were years ahead in everything. He never thought he’d bother to pinpoint exactly how many years.

 

“It was 1865.”

 

The others ceased their staring contest, but when Genji looked up he looked to Jack. There was a black kind of rage at the pit of his soul  _ four months indeed.  _ He didn’t look at Ana. 

 

The blue eyes studied him, picked him apart. Then the edge of a scar-covered mouth quirked. He felt Ana stiffen beside him. Jack smiled like a man putting the final piece in a puzzle.

 

“So I suppose Genji Shimada did die in 1865.”

McCree just looked like the desert stillness, giving nothing away. Ana was tense against Genji’s shoulder. Jack just settled back in his seat, still smiling. His tone was conversational when he finally spoke, but Genji could cut the tension with a knife.

 

“Couldn’t stop from doing her one last favor on the way to kill her, huh?”

“This was a long standing debt paid. We are on even footing now.” Ana’s voice gave nothing away.

“Ah.  _ The  _ debt, then.”

That got a reaction. McCree’s face opened like a book, shock and confusion across its pages. Ana moved her wrist up sharply, and Jack slumped like a puppet with his strings cut.

 

There was a dart in his neck.

 

Ana slipped the dart gun back in her sleeve, reaching out to shift Jack more comfortably across the seat.

“Nap time.” she mused.

“Ana what the Hell-”

Genji could only see the back of Ana’s head, but the look she leveled at McCree must have been vicious, because his mouth snapped shut again.

 

There was a long silence as Ana tucked Jack’s coat around his shoulders, and gave him a pat on the cheek that sounded a little too firm to be affectionate.

 

“That is my business, Jesse. It was long before your time.”

“...yes ma’am.”

 

She turned back to Genji, and her facade faltered for a moment. There was real pain in her face.

“You have been in my care for four months.” She looked like there was more that she wanted to say, but Genji just nodded. The slow burn of anger faded.  _ Stop. Think.  _

 

_ She knew who I was _

**_She did._ **

_ So she knew how long I had been gone _

**_It was not your time yet._ **

 

Genji stared down into his palms. His answers were within his reach. Soon. Close. To Eichenwalde, and to the witch. 


	8. A Common Enemy

 

The rest of the journey had passed without incident. Genji had never been in a zeppelin before- had only seen sketches of the design from inventors in his father’s office. Now the sky seemed full of them over the sea. He spent most of the journey pressed to the window, watching the airborne ships go by above and around them. Ana seemed happy to sate his curiosity, naming the models of the ships as they passed them. 

 

“It makes our trip a little longer, but we’ll be going around England.” She tapped the glass, indicating the stretch of green below them. 

“The ships only fly over water, this one’s only allowed over the north sea because it’s a smaller model.”

Jack snorted, adjusting his suit collar. He looked more polished- they’d changed coming off the train- but ill at ease. 

“We couldn’t afford the bigger ships anyway.”

__

 

He knew the journey should have taken weeks, but over the course of three days of travel they’d cleared the sea and were flying in towards a high stone tower on the coast of Germany. The ship had been tied to a dock high in the air and the’d made their way down the spiraling steps, Jack and Ana taking a confident lead and McCree making his slow and unsteady way down by himself. 

 

The stairs creaked underneath every step, and Genji found himself tempted to go just as slowly. Jack and Ana moved with the ease of people who’d walked this path many times before. Genji had to take his time, the swirl of the walls disorienting as he moved. The oil lamps were hung just a little too far apart, the shadows deep and flickering as they moved. 

 

The lights played tricks on Genji’s eyes as the shadows shifted. Ana’s morphed till it was wide and angular in the shoulders, like she wore a suit of armor. Jack’s widened outwards, a cloaked figure with holes like a mask. Genji looked down at his own as the lamp fell behind him, and saw the ungulation of tentacles.

 

With the shiver of anticipation he looked back over his shoulder at the hunter, far behind. Another figure walked on the wall beside him- curling horns and the shape of what looked to be a bow on his back. Genji looked away again, trying to keep his eyes up as he clenched the rail a little tighter. 

 

He felt like another eye had opened in his mind, a lens opening far too wide and taking in a world too wide for him to comprehend. He tried to focus on Ana’s back, thinking only of keeping his steps even. He had the deep sense- down to his bones- that he’d seen something he wasn’t supposed to. 

 

He swore, for a moment, he heard rumbling laughter. 

 

He was grateful to step back out into the sunlight, even if was slowly giving way to night. A carriage was waiting for them, Jack and Ana already leaned against it to wait. 

 

“If there are such things as steam powered automobiles, how have I not seen a single one since waking?” Genji mused, moving to stroke the horse. It startled, edging away from his touch. 

 

“We’re poor.”

Jack said simply, climbing to take the reins as the hunter finally made it out of the tower.

“And those things are mainly for the cities.” Ana added, opening the carriage door for him. 

 

The ride was short and hugged the coast, the high stone walls coming through glimpses in the trees. The town they rode into was deserted, an unsettling silence hanging over the place.

 

Genji took it in with a practiced eye. The town was in good repair for the most part: It’s inhabitants hadn’t been gone long. But along the road, there were craters. Filled with water- not fresh, but surrounded by scrap. Explosives in a metal shell. He felt the coil of tension in his chest tighten as they drew near to the castle. 

 

The silence broke as soon as they entered the courtyard. There was a great shout, and Ana leapt from the vehicle and took off at a run. Genji went to surge after her, but McCree’s hand closed around his shoulder. 

 

“Give the old lovers a moment.” He mumbled, taking his time following. 

Genji took up the rear, reaching up to ensure the metal sheath for his jaw was in place, even as he wondered how the hunter could be so calm.

 

Still, when they stepped out they were greeted by a huge man in the garb of a king, silver around his shoulders. His voice boomed out a greeting to Jack, Ana in his arms. His eyes lifted to where Genji and McCree stood against the cart.

 

“Ah! The oddity!” 

There was nothing but friendliness in that tone, but the fingers of McCree’s prosthetic hand twitched and his smile looked forced.

“Hail and well met, Reinhardt.”

 

“Well met, my friend! Who is this with you?”

 

Genji gave the lord a low bow. 

“I am Genji.”

 

The man gave a pleased noise, putting Ana down to cross the courtyard and take his hand.

“You honor me, my friend! Thank you for coming to my aid.”

 

“Are we the only ones to come?” 

Reinhardt shook his head, keeping his grin even as his gaze flashed briefly to McCree.

“The countess and the monk arrived yesterday.”

 

Genji stiffened at the mention of the monk, but didn’t have the chance to reply as McCree let out a furious hiss.

“The Countess? You invited one of-”

 

“Ah, good hunter.”

McCree spat, raising his gaze to the opening doors of the castle and the figures in the doorway.

“Huntress.” he spat. 

  
The woman in the doorway wore a long velvet coat, a silver headpiece that looked like it bore lenses in her raven hair. She was pale- too pale. Her eyes flashed the color of garnets as she tipped her head, a long rifle over her shoulder.

 

“Polite as always-”

“Now now.” Came a rumble from behind her, a soothing tone that made Genji’s heart pick up a frantic pace in his chest. “We have a common enemy. No reason to be rude.”

 

The omnic floated out of the shadows, his hands crossed in front of him. His robes hung tattered around him, the orbs in a loop like a chain around his neck. He heard Jack mumble a few choice curses, but they were forgotten as the green eyes settled on him.

 

“My student! It is good to see you.”

Genji found himself smiling under his visor, his heart pounding as he bowed.

“And you, master.”

 

“Genji-”

Jack’s tone held a warning, but Genji was already moving, crossing to the omnic. The metal fingers reached out, examining his scars. When they moved to the seams of the jaw Genji pulled the cover loose, allowing the omnic to take his face in his palms and examine him. 

 

“The alchemist did a fine job.” He mused, sounding approving. Ana tipped her head in acknowledgement. 

 

Feeling the tension, Reinhardt cleared his throat.

“You should all come inside, so we can discuss the situation. My people are staying in the hall.”

The others followed behind, Jack shooting them a look of suspicion as he went inside. McCree, too, paused at the gate- but he only looked off toward the carriage before he sighed and followed.

 

Once they were gone, the monk released Genji’s cheeks.

“You may address me as Zenyatta if it pleases you, my student.”

Genji bowed again.

“Genji Shimada, Master Zenyatta. But you may have already known-”

Zenyatta shook his head, somehow giving the impression of smiling even as the tentacles curled around his jaw. 

“I know very little of your life before, little sparrow, save the roads you walk in your dreams.”

_ Sparrow. _

The name curled in his chest, tugging at old memories of his father. But there was nothing but affection in Zenyatta’s tone, so he shrugged off his discomfort and offered the omnic his arm.

“We should join the others.”

The omnic let out an affirmative hum, and they went inside.

  
Genji tried not to be bothered by the heavy sound of the gates closing behind him. 


	9. Set in Motion

The situation, as Reinhardt laid it out in the great hall of the castle, was simple.  The witch had backed a man named Junkenstein, who had created a monster. Junkenstein’s motive was revenge for the populace’s lack of appreciation, and the witch wanted souls. 

 

They were both looking for a slaughter. 

 

Reinhardt looked grim, the lantern light playing off the strong cut of his features. Genji was trying not to look behind them at the shadows, but Reinhardt’s was cast vividly at the head of the hall. A tall man, a hammer in hand. A ghostly paleness about his head. The image drew Genji in, and he hardly realized that he’d stopped listening to the words of Reinhardt’s speech until he felt the brush of his mentor’s hand on his shoulder. 

 

He gave Zenyatta a grateful smile, and Zenyatta tipped his head back towards the lord. 

 

“...The forces against us are primarily the witch’s old allies. I do not know which of them will come to her aid. There are old creatures reborn by her hand. But... we can be sure the Reaper will be by her side.”

 

That cast a heavy silence on those in the hall. Jesse and Jack’s hands were white-knuckled on their weapons. Ana’s expression was unchanged, her eyes vacant. 

 

Reinhardt’s hand tightened around a scepter by his side, but his voice carried as strong as ever. There was no hesitation in him. 

 

“There are two more who have promised us their aid. The archer and the viking. But we cannot be sure they will arrive in time to help. Junkenstein has promised that he will return on Hallows eve, tomorrow.” 

 

Zenyatta’s hand touched Genji’s shoulder, and he turned just enough to catch the wash of relief over McCree’s features at the mention of the archer. 

 

_ Looking for someone.  _

 

Genji nodded to Zenyatta, who gave the slightest impression of a smile. It made Genji’s heart swell. He would not fail. He would see all Zenyatta directed of him. 

 

But in the corner of his eye, he could see his master’s shadow swell. The shadows carried weight, moved of their own volition. It gave him a chill.

 

But they fought on the side of the right. 

 

Surely he had no reason to doubt.

 

Bodies swayed in the wind in a forest in the back of his mind, but he tried to keep his eyes forward and forget them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for how short this is! premonitions of what's to come, and next the war begins


	10. The enemies before you and the ones behind

The air held the promise of winter’s chill as they took their places around the door the next sundown. The air steamed around McCree and Jack, and Genji tried not to notice how the air from his lungs was as cold as the air. 

 

Genji’s glance at the huntress to see if her breaths steamed revealed more than that- she hardly breathed at all, shoulders raising at intervals too slow for a human. Quiet, shallow, cold in the air. He wondered if you could hear the shot coming when she pulled the trigger. 

 

Ana and Reinhardt, on his other side, talked and laughed as though the night didn’t hold the promise of blood. As though this were a social visit. 

 

His master was impassive, in the middle of them. The huntress, ignoring the flash of McCree’s glare, crossed to Zenyatta and bowed. 

Something quiet passed between them, and then his master extended a hand. One of the orbs detached from the arc around his back and flew over her head, letting off a thin gold trail that tied to her head.

“Merci, dark one.”

Zenyatta chuckled, then turned his attention to Genji.

“There is something I am in need of, if we are to escape this battle unscathed.”

 

“-oh!” Genji fumbled a moment, then pulled the orb from his pocket. It floated, deceptively innocent, to join its fellows. At his back, Ana pressed closer to Reinhardt. 

 

The orbs flew a loose circle, and then bound together in a chain at his neck. The one at the center glowed a deep violet, an almost black energy. Zenyatta tipped his head to Genji.   
“Thank you.”

 

_

 

When it came, it was only to the credit of the silence that they heard it at all. The sound of constructs moving. Gears grinding against each other, the slow crackle of electricity. 

Reinhardt moved, a flickering blue shield forming a wall in front of him. 

 

And then the first of the bombs fell. 

 

Genji moved on instinct, lifting his blade to deflect the blast. It burst in a wall of smoke ahead of them, and as it cleared the constructs came in waves on every side of them. They scattered, Genji lunging off to the right as the first of the constructs reached the platform. He moved through them- one or two swings shattered them, but there were more and more of them.

Drawn into the rhythm of his blows only McCree alerted him when the situation changed, once more, for the worse. 

 

“-Gabriel!-”

 

The smoke hadn’t dissipated completely. Instead, it formed a narrow cone, whirling like a tornado until it burst into the shape of a man. He was a black cloak and silver hands, a pumpkin with leering red flames dancing from it. Candles burned twisted flames from the base of his shotguns, and their barrels dripped wax onto the ground as he moved. 

 

Like a puppet on strings, he swung up his arm.

“-Hello, ingrate.”

He pulled the trigger. 

 

Genji moved without thinking, diving in front of the paralyzed gunslinger with his sword up. The blade twisted, deflecting the bullets in arcs of green. The edge of his sword glowed and Genji dove forward, the dragon driving him forward. The words of the summoning were hardly from his lips before she was on the edge of his blade, a snarling arc of green. The reaper blocked with the barrel of the gun, forced back a step. Genji pushed harder, and the reaper lost a step, staggering backwards with the force of the blade. But he was ready for Genji’s advance, and got off a shot as the swordsman moved. Genji staggered, the dragon slipping from his blade as the bullets bit into him. The reaper lifted his gun again- 

 

A shot, completely unheard in the melee, found its mark in the Reaper’s shoulder. He staggered, and as he did Genji fell back. Two flashes of eclipsed him- twin stars. A dark violet spinning around Reaper, dripping onto him like a signaling beacon for misfortune. The other a brilliant gold glass, shattering on Reaper’s shoulder. The power exploded from it in a disc around them, and Genji felt his wounds heal, new strength in his movements. Reaper fell, dripping wax and smoke.

 

“-YOU-” He burst into smoke, and Genji barely heard Ana’s answering shout of warning before something roared past him, a hurtling disc along the ground. There was answering laughter from somewhere above them, and the disc burst against the door behind them.

 

He heard a curse from the gunslinger, and then the world slowed for a moment. A drawl behind him he couldn’t quite make out, and then a cacophony of gunshots. Constructs fell around him, and silence crashed over them, almost as violent as the sound. 

 

Genji rounded on McCree, who was reloading with shaky hands.

 

“-What was that?”

McCree grunted.

“Gotta have some tricks up my sleeve.”

 

Genji’s anger spiked. “Not-!”

But as he moved toward the gunslighter a golden orb flew from the balcony above them to the shoulder. Icy black calm submerged him, and he stopped. 

 

“You froze with your enemy before you.” Zenyatta supplied in his student’s place. 

Jesse barely spared them a glance, checking his weapon again.

“I’m not the only one who’s got history with the Reaper. Startled me.”

 

“Your fears will get you killed, gunslinger.” Jesse glowered up at the woman above him, sitting with her gun across her lap and looking down at him with an expression of genuine amusement. 

 

“We can’t all be cold hearted murderers-”

“Enough.”

 

Jack crossed back along the bridge towards them, his gun over his shoulder.

“We only have a moment before they reassemble. We can’t afford to spend it arguing. Eyes on the front wall.”

“She started it.”

“I don’t care who-”

 

There was a faint strum in the air, and an arrow sank into the pavement, letting out a blue pulse that went around all of their feet.    
McCree’s expression brightened as they looked up, catching a horned silhouette against the sky. 

 

“Well now. Cavalry’s here.” He thumbed his pistol as the shadows started to collect, the metallic sounds of constructs forming rising in volume again.

 

“And right on time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Battles are HARD TO WRITE


	11. What have you done

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Directing your attention, briefly, to the warnings for this fic!

 

The archer stayed well out of the way though the next wave of constructs. The incoming groups were thinned as they approached, and when the next spinning bomb hurtled by, Reinhardt saw it easily to lift his shield.

 

Another arrow struck it down, and Genji saw again the glint of horns in the moonlight atop the bridge. He heard the hunter call out something and the archer respond in kind, a kind of mirth between them. 

 

The voice was only a rumble in the air- but something about it’s tenor sounded familiar. It threw Genji off his stride for a moment, and he took a blow to the chest. He grunted, but the darkness pulsed- his master’s orb flying to him.

 

Later, he reminded himself, lifting his blade again.

There was time to ask difficult questions.

 

And then Reinhardt gave a should of warning, his shield cracking, and something came running out from the gate. A man- no.

 

That was no man. 

 

A mass of stitched flesh, holding a canon that fired shrapnel as it hulked forward. Genji saw it in slow motion- he saw the thing move, saw Ana trying to lift her weapon. He saw the despair in her eyes, even as her hands neared the trigger, that it wouldn’t be fast enough. The gun was pointed at Reinhardt’s head, his helmet cracked by an earlier blast. His shield gave out with a dull crack.  

 

The monster pulled the trigger. Genji heard Ana scream. He tried to move, but the monster was close, too close, and even as he lunged he knew it wouldn’t be enough. 

The blast tore through Reinhardt’s helmet, a hunk of shrapnel at close range. Ana screamed. Jack was already shooting, the creature riddled with bullets and shrugging them off as he raised his gun again. But they were all moving, the black orb finding its mark as McCree’s bullets and the archer’s arrows, and one last shot from the balcony brought the creature down as Ana threw herself to the pavement, desperately pouring potions over the fallen lord. 

 

He was utterly still. 

 

_ Haven’t you had enough? _

 

The voice echoed in the air around them. Genji knew that voice. They all did.

  
The witch. 

 

And then there she was- at the end of the bridge. Her golden winds unfurled in the air, and she smiled. 

A bullet went through her forehead, an arrow through her gut. Genji’s sword was rising but he faltered- thrown off. 

 

His master’s orb had not followed. 

 

The Angel’s wings spread higher, and she licked her lips as blood ran down her face, making a dismissive gesture to where McCree and the Archer were positioned on the bridge, the barrel of the gunslinger’s weapon still lifted.

“Hospitable as always. But I’m not here for you two.”

She took a step forward, and another shot went through her neck- this time fired from the balcony above. 

She kept on. Neither Jack or Ana fired, the soldier hung back against the door as though he would take the next blow on himself rather than let it fall. 

 

The Angel bent over Reinhardt’s body, clicking her tongue. 

“Ah, Ana. Your Lover and your daughter. All you had left in the world. Aren’t you tired, my dear?”

 

“-Ana-” Jack’s voice was a warning, but the alchemist didn’t look up from Reinhardt’s body.

“What do you want.”

 

The witch gestured.

“You both. I can bring you together again.”

“No you cannot. I will not believe you twice.” Ana’s voice was quiet, broken. 

 

Something fell from the sky. A figure in violet armor crashed into the pavement. It stood, a violet glow hanging off of it. A puppet waiting for orders- stock still. 

Genji’s hand holding the sword shook, aching to lunge in, to stave off whatever was about to unfold.

 

_ Hold.  _

That was what the shadows asked.

He held. 

 

“Perhaps another offer.” The angel beckoned the puppet, which moved stiffly to her side. It removed it’s helmet, and Genji heard McCree let out a sharp gasp.

“What have you done-”

  
“All I could.” She whispered.

 

And she reached up to take the Witch’s outstretched hand. 


	12. Your Father's son

Shots rang out as a heavy fog fell like a final curtain over the courtyard- closing with unnatural speed around the bodies on the stones. 

Then

 

Orange light.

Eyes.

 

Ana stood, an orange cloak around her shoulders. Her face was covered by a mask, a gruesome glow behind the eyes. The maw was a slash of a smile. She turned away from Genji, back to where McCree was standing beside the archer, and swayed in place.

 

_ Bad company. You are your father’s son. _

 

It wasn’t Ana’s voice.

It couldn’t be.

 

But it carried the same accent, the same tones. It was as if Ana’s words had been written on parchment and held out in the rain, to become a bleeding semblance of itself. She swayed. The air around her was clearing rapidly, but Genji felt a hand on his shoulder before he could intercede.

  
“Our part in these proceedings is done. The witch is gone, for now.”

For a moment, Genji didn’t move. His blade flickered in time with his heartbeat.

 

“They’ll die.”

Zenyatta made a rough sound- almost a laugh as he released Genji’s shoulder.

“We are needed elsewhere.”

 

There was something urgent, something that felt important, but it was drowning. The waters of calm fell over him, a vice grip, and the light went out of the air. His hands shaking, he lowered his blade.

 

“Yes, master.”

He turned his back, even as he heard the sharp noise of Ana’s gun- a silenced dart. Someone cried out behind him.

 

Something moved in the shadows ahead, a figure crossing the walls to land and block their way. 

“You are allies of the witch.”

 

Genji stopped.

He knew that voice. 

Zenyatta laughed, and the orbs circled around his back- a violet halo. Miasma leaked from him as he plucked an orb from the circle. 

 

“My student. I need you to clear our way.”

 

Genji almost didn’t hear him- the blood was pounding in his ears as the archer tipped his head back. Black horns curled over him, and his eyes were an empty white light. The red ink in his skin changed the way the shadows fell around his jaw- but there was no mistaking him. 

 

Hanzo.

 

The ache under the metal plating in his torso burned- he flexed the metal in his wrists as he drew his sword. His dragon felt his anger- answered it with her own. She curled down his blade as he drew it, her scales shining a poisonous green. 

 

Genji saw the moment Hanzo recognized him- saw the shock in his expression- saw pain and regret- 

He buried the sight in his hate and lunged. 

 

“Genji!”

 

Hanzo had to dive to the side as Genji brought the blade down, unable to stop him from close range.

“-Genji how-” 

The next strike sliced through his shoulder, an attempt to dive backwards only half completed. For once, Hanzo was the one a step behind, struggling to match his speed. 

“-Please-”

Hanzo staggered, and Genji brought the blade forward with the same, unflinching speed-

 

A bright flash, and an explosion threw him backwards. His concentration slipped, the dragon’s power faltering as he slid back along the stone. 

 

McCree was standing in front of Hanzo, another grenade ready in his hand.

“Maybe we’ve had a little misunderstanding here.”

 

“-Jesse!”

 

The moments warning wasn’t enough as the dark sank into the hunter’s neck. He staggered, and Hanzo lunged up to catch him as he fell. 

 

Ana stood over them. She tipped her head, placing a finger to the false grin of her mask. 

_ Sssh.  _

 

Zenyatta’s hand was on Genji’s shoulder again, leading him away as Ana loaded something else into her gun and turned back on Hanzo, still clinging to McCree’s fallen form. 

 

Genji turned his back as the gun fired a final time. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((keep Ana's abilities in mind when worrying about the body count for this chapter))


	13. By my hand

It was days before Genji could think of anything to say. 

Words were exchanged, certainly, but they were prompted- answers to questions about foods, assistance with maintenance of his metal body. Genji felt numb, and scared, and angry. It seethed like a storm inside of him. His brother. Alive. 

 

He thought of the way Hanzo had held the hunter, the pain in his face when he had fallen. Alive. Alive and  _ well.  _ A life, a real life, all of the irony. He suffered in a metal shell while his murder walked free and fell in love with hunters. 

 

The injustice of it clawed its way up his throat, tore at his chest until his soul was a bitter, angry, open wound. He would pay. They would all pay. The hunter had known, he had recognized the dragon in him immediately, had surely who his killer was. 

 

Ana.

 

Something very like regret tore in the current, shredding itself to empty pain, unidentifiable from its source.  _ All she could. All she could.  _

She surely did not regret her last choice.

  
Genji did not think of the others, buried their voices. The huntress joined them after a week or so, walking up to their camp as though they were a mile away, instead of a hundred. There was dried blood in her hair and the edges of her lips, though Genji’s dragon whispered faintly that it wasn’t human. Small mercies, at least. 

 

She had knelt to his master, her arm folded across her chest and her head down. Zenyatta had greeted her warmly, extending his hands to pull her to her feet.

“You are welcome in our company, huntress. I hope your journey was fair.”

She smiled without warmth. There was an emptiness in it- a puppet’s look.

“Fair enough.”

 

She turned to Genji, bowing at the waist.

“Dragon. I regret that I didn’t get an opportunity to put an end to your brother.”

The dragon shivered in Genji’s spine, white hot anger burning a hole in him.

“I would just as soon end him myself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short break-the-writers block chapter here before we enter the latter arc 
> 
> thanks for reading, as always!


	14. Yours

They travelled on, until Genji could not travel anymore. One day he found that he could not take another step, stuck in place by the weight of his fury and his fear, and he sank to his knees midstep. His dragon curled around his neck, echoing his fear, trying to urge him to carry on, carry on,  _ the last person you have left will leave you if you do not keep your step- _

 

**_Why do you fear?_ **

 

Genji stiffened, trying again to stand, as the shadow of his master’s form fell on him, but his joints refused to obey him. He tasted blood in his throat as he strained, but he felt his master’s fingers on his face. He stilled, the salt of blood washed out in dark water.

 

**_Sparrow. Why do you fear?_ **

 

His dragon tipped her head back, calling his answer for him in her tongue.

 

_ We do not understand our part. We cannot play it. We will fail you. _

 

Zenyatta cupped Genji’s face in his hands, bending down to face him. 

 

**_You have not failed me, and you will not. Your killer lives. It troubles you._ **

 

Genji’s eyes began to burn, and he felt another wave of anguish and humiliation at his own tears. Almost as soon as the emotion surged, he felt it ebb again- not gone, but echoing in a space much larger than his own form. 

 

_ It does.  _

 

**_You must not hide from your feelings. You cannot deny them, they are yours, and will chase you if you run. You will not win._ **

 

_ But if I waver- _

 

**_No._ **

 

Zenyatta wiped his tears, almost tender, paying no mind to the huntress waiting by the side of the path. 

 

**_Sparrow, you must feel and then let go. Make your peace. Your brother lives, but he is not your brother anymore. You have both been born again, for different ends. The life he lives now is of no concern to you._ **

 

Genji saw Hanzo again, in his minds eye. The agony in his face as he dodged Genji’s blade, calling out.  He felt....not anger. The anger ebbed out in the darkness. Regret. A life not lived. A connection that could have been.

 

**_You need not miss the path not taken. Missing it will not call it again to your feet, and will only blind you from the road ahead._ **

 

Genji felt his fear, present all along, begin to fade. He had chosen. He had chosen, as once he had chosen to fight his family’s legacy. Another path. A path that had not ended, yet. 

 

Genji tipped his head back, and spoke with his own voice.

 

“But you still haven’t told me- how am I of use to you?”

 

Zenyatta pressed their foreheads together.

 

“My dear Sparrow. You are my companion. I sought you by my side because you are the other half of my spirit. I ask only for your heart, so that if I lose your loyalty I will know it was for good reason.”

  
Zenyatta withdrew, but held down his hands to lift Genji to his feet, and Genji took them without hesitation.

 

“I am yours, Master.”


	15. Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2, folks, coming up with a POV change

When Jesse woke, it was too voices he hadn’t heard in years, and he was certain that he hadn’t woken at all. Because Gabriel was dead- and so was Jack, and so was he. The old Jack, the Jack that yelled at Gabriel like he loved him, _ loved him still, always would, always will _ . And-

 

It was the hands on his cheeks that really brought him back. He felt warm, well rested, but he always did whenever-

 

Whenever-

 

Jesse shot up. 

 

“Ana-!”

 

“Gone.”

The voice that answered him out of the dark was almost hers. The moon had set, the sun not yet rising on the horizon. The hands weren’t hers, they were Hanzo’s, bless him, sitting by his side. And the voice-

 

Too young to be her’s. Commanding, with the same lilt-

McCree choked, the words not making their way out his throat. A light flared, and the argueing intensified. 

“You never could light a fire you useless old bastard-”

“Well of course you’d know, given that you’ve been MADE OF CANDLE WAX for 20 years!”

“Hey, that was hardly my choice! I’d get a real mask if I had a choice! Pick a better motif then being a fire hazard! Maybe i’d be the vampire to match your new zombie look-”

“That doesn’t even make sense!”

 

The fire got going, and McCree found his words.

 

“-Reeha?”

Fareeha looked grim, her frame slight. Something was missing, and it took McCree a moment to realize he’d thought of her forever in her armor, like the day she left. She seemed too slim without it, almost naked in a tank top and thick cloth pants. For a moment, again, McCree was sure he’d died and joined her.

 

But she shifted, and as she lifted her head to look at him, he saw the scar against her neck. A thick, jagged branch of gnarled tissue, curled as though it had stretched and grown as it healed. 

 

It was paler then her skin, old and browned like a sepia photograph. 

 

She gave him another moment before she spoke, as though letting him adjust. 

“Been a while.”

She didn’t seem to know what to say. As though in deliberate contrast, the argument was reaching a fever pitch. 

 

“-And how’d you get yourself into this mess anyway? We’re the same as always, you fall asleep beside me, and in the morning you’re a giant pumpkin monster and you try to kill me!”

“Jack-”

 

“Actually, I think we’d all like an answer to that one.”

 

Every head turned to Hanzo. McCree remembered, almost too late, the hand in his. He squeezed it, belatedly. Hanzo returned the gesture, but he kept his eyes on the other figure in the dark. 

 

Gabriel stepped up to the fire, almost like an afterthought, eyeing it as though it was going to leap out and possess him. He avoided all of their gazes, but the silence hung heavy, and he’d always been terrible at silences. 

 

He sighed, sitting next to Fareeha, who leaned into his shoulder, almost instinctively. 

 

He took another moment- breathing in deep heaves as though he’d forgotten how. After a minute, Jack sat on the ground next to them. Close- but the foot or so of distance was felt. 

 

Gabriel rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.

 

“I don’t know if I remember.”

They all stayed quiet, and Jesse’s chest twisted. Gabriel- the man he’d always considered his father- always unflinching. Always steel and stone, even when he’d changed into that...thing.

His voice wasn’t meant to falter like this, he wasn’t meant to stoop into himself as though he were scared of dissolving. 

 

“It happened too fast. Someone- some people. Got me. A cult, I think. I blacked out and I woke up hanging from something, tied up on an arch. And there were voices, a lot of voices, and something-” Gabriel shuddered.

 

“It felt like-”

 

_ Like a hole in the world. Like a living, hulking nothingness. Like a piece of the sky ripped out of its place.  _

 

Jesse knew. He felt the words in his chest as much as he heard them, and he saw, again, the train. The window, and the force pressed up against it as though it was trying to break the glass, reaching, reaching- 

 

For Genji.

Hanzo’s hand tightened in his, and he was certain they’d both had the same realization, even with Hanzo’s brief sight of his brother. 

 

_ The monk. The obelisk. The thing in the trees.  _

 

Gabriel’s voice grew steadier as he spoke, like a conviction. 

 

“I was sure something was going to take me, but then I saw the witch come into the camp. She saw me hanging from the arch and offered the monk a favor to take me. I was half starved, almost all the way outta my mind- and-....”

 

“And she offered you a deal.”

Jack’s voice was soft, and he reached for Gabriel, holding him as he sank into his arms. 

 

Gabriel shook, and Jesse looked away, but heard the words all the same. 

 

“ _ Jack i’m so sorry- I never wanted to hurt you. She twisted something in me and I couldn’t-” _

_ “Gabriel-” _

_ “No, Jack, please- you have to listen. She never offered me back because she needed me. She owed a debt to the cultist for taking me. I’m here because that debt is paid, and-” _

 

“We have to kill him.” Fareeha spoke without inflection, staring only into the fire. 

Hanzo started, only McCree’s hand keeping him from standing. 

“-Surely he doesn’t know what he’s done, he’s being used-”

 

“-And so are we.” Fareeha finished for him, grabbing a piece of splintered wood off of the ground and throwing it into the fire. 

 

“But it doesn’t matter.”

 

“-afraid I don’t quite understand what’s happenin’ here.” Jesse managed, still reeling.  _ Voices in the dark. Changes in the stars. A wall in reality.  _

 

Hanzo turned to him, his eyes pleading.

  
“The witch has freed them to kill Genji because he has allied himself with the cultist, but surely we can’t play into her hands, surely he’s not so far gone that we can’t-”

 

Fareeha laughed, and the sound was cold enough to freeze the air in Jesse’s lungs. 

  
“Only those who commit to their path are beyond redemption, archer. You swerved. He will not.”

“The cultist is manipulating him, surely we need only kill-”

 

“Can’t kill that thing.”

Hanzo looked to McCree, betrayed, and Jesse held tighter to his hand, silently begging him not to let go.    
“Sweetheart, that’s an-...” He trailed off, realizing what he was about to say. He’d never listened to Ana, never listened to this hogwash about elder gods- but-

 

Hanzo, bless him. Hanzo didn’t let go of his hand. Waited him out, but Gabriel spoke first.

 

“The cultist isn’t of this world. Can’t kill him. Can only put him back to sleep for a while. But Genji can finish this without him. He’s a vessel. Kill the spirit, it lives on in the vessel. Kill the vessel, and at least-” Gabriel looked out over the battlefield. The mess of constructs, the uncertainty if this year would truly be the last. The near-certainty that it wouldn’t be. 

“-at least we win the battle, if not the war. Never the war.”

  
  


They sat in silence, and after what felt like an eternity, the sun began to rise. 


	16. Die another day

They left when the sun grew too bright, dazzling off of the bronze and tin scattered in the square. None of them wanted to look too closely at the pool of blood where Reinhardt had fallen, think too deeply about the missing body. 

 

They made their way back to the coast and to the Zeppelin station, stealing one of Reinhardt’s chariots and his horses without saying much about it. They were all quiet- except for Gabe and Jack, who argued like their words could fill the years since they’d last seen each other. Jesse rode in the front with Fareeha, knowing Hanzo would understand. The old words just dredged up the things he’d taken years to push back down again.

 

He could feel the forest, pressing in on his senses, and he hated it. It made him feel sick, how aware he was of all of it. It felt like a bandage ripped off a wound in his head, all of the infection pouring in again as though it’d never left. And no- he said he’d left this behind, he said he’d- 

 

“Jesse?”

 

She was gone, wasn’t she? Her red eyes and her paintings drawn from life from some horrible twisting things that she kept in cages beneath her feet, something-

 

“Jesse?”

 

This time, a hand fell firmly on his shoulder, and Jesse snapped out of it. Fareeha pinched his cheek, hard enough to sting, and he swore.

 

“Jeez can’t a man think a minute-”

 

“I know what you look like when you’re thinking of things you shouldn’t dwell on, Jess. I’ve been away a long time. Maybe you owe me some stories, tell me what’s happened to my family while I’ve been gone.”

 

Her tone was light, but her knuckles were pale on the horse’s reins where she held them too tight, as though she were trying to remind herself what they felt like in her hands. 

 

Jesse signed.

 

“Well, what do you wanna know?”

 

“Tell me about what’s got that look in your eye.”

 

Jesse snorted.

 

“That’s gonna be a long story.”

 

Fareeha gestured ahead at the road.

 

“We have the time.”


	17. From Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is another lovecraft story!

Jesse hadn’t always been a hunter.

 

In fact, when Fareeha went off to the war and failed to return he’d been...well. A common enough thief. A good pickpocket, a small-time burglar, a smuggler when booze got pricey. 

 

Ashe had changed things.

 

They’d met on his smuggling gigs- she headed a small but influential gang that normally operated in the midwest, but security coming through Mexico had gotten particularly tight, pressures forcing her to lie low for a while. Or, that was the way she told it. He’d had some reason to doubt, later.

 

She was making a respectable living as an artist, which McCree hadn’t been particularly impressed with until he’d gotten a look at her paintings.

 

Even then, he hadn’t scared easy, but the things she put to canvas gave him a chill that stuck in his spine and stayed in the tips of his fingers for hours after he left her company. They were in horrific detail- each piece of fantastic gore and sickness rendered in loving detail, as though from life instead of from her mind. Still, he was young, and eager to prove that he wasn’t scared- so every challenge she issued, he rose to. When she had trouble finding buyers for her paintings- given the horror of their subjects- he rode them out to people who would buy them. She paid well...but....

 

The people who bought them weren’t quite right. A man in a black tuxedo who looked to be mostly prosthetic- bright red eyes matching his bright red bowtie. A woman with heterochromia who answered her door in a white labcoat marred only by the bright red splash of blood on the collar. There was a sound behind her he didn’t want to put into words. She’d tipped him well for the work of Ashe had painted of a banshee tearing open an angel’s chest- all bone and gore.  It made him sick to look at. A woman with black stitches in her flesh who’d grinned at him, her eyes wide and empty, like marbles. He’d had to carry the painting in, because her fingers shook and didn’t seem to quite close on what they grabbed.

 

But nothing had compared to the photograph.

 

He’d gone to see her one day- like all the others, to pick up a painting- and she hadn’t answered the door. When he knocked on it, it swung open.

 

He just....pulled out his pistol and went inside. He hadn’t hesitated, feeling something pulling him forward.

 

He’d found her guns in her studio, their hilts speckled in gore. He thought he saw a finger. And her latest painting- a twisting monstrous form with its jaws wide to devour a child.

 

There was something pinned to the painting, a curled piece of paper, but his hand had just closed around it when he heard a metallic slide- the gutter in the floor shifting. Something growled, down below, something  _ crunched _ and....

 

He knew Ashe wasn’t alive any more.

 

He ran.

 

It wasn’t until he got home again, his suitcase on the ground, his drawers open, that he realized he was still holding the paper in his left hand. He uncurled his fingers.

 

The photograph was the exact image Ashe’s canvas had held- the child’s eyes open wide in the moment before the jaws closed around him, before his last moments, and Jesse realized he’d known that child. He’d sat in the window of the bookstore every day, until a week prior, when he was gone and the wanted posters appeared.

 

Ashe’s paintings weren’t from her mind

 

They were from life. 


End file.
